


Lay All Your Love on Me

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Biting, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Cute Immortal Husbands, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, Filthy, Frottage, Idiots in Love, Kink Meme, M/M, Malta, Pre-Canon, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Scratching, Smut, The Author Striving for Historical Accuracy and Hoping for the Best, What Happened in Malta (The Old Guard)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: From there they're off, rubbing against each other every single night, sometimes first thing in the morning with dawn's light still a fiery orange on the horizon. It's not nice, nor kind, nor gentle. They undress in order to press skin to skin and avoid cleaning their clothes in the nearest river, mumbling this at each other between biting kisses, but Nicolò knows better. Sometimes he believes he'd rip Yusuf's trousers off and then his own in his desperation.Written forthisKink Meme prompt.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 46
Kudos: 566





	Lay All Your Love on Me

**Author's Note:**

> I realise this isn't so much Hate Sex as Rough Sex Featuring Pissy Immortals. I KNOW.

The first time Yusuf kisses him, it knocks the air right out of Nicolò's lungs. Head spinning, all he can think to do is kiss him back, noses bumping and teeth clashing. It's not a good kiss, but it gets him hot from head to toe, and he hardens against Yusuf's thigh embarrassingly quickly.

From there they're off, rubbing against each other every single night, sometimes first thing in the morning with dawn's light still a fiery orange on the horizon. It's not nice, nor kind, nor gentle. They undress in order to press skin to skin and avoid cleaning their clothes in the nearest river, mumbling this at each other between biting kisses, but Nicolò knows better. Sometimes he believes he'd rip Yusuf's trousers off and then his own in his desperation.

They reach the island of Malta, travelling together so as not to travel alone, which is also when they realise even the smallest cut or bruise will heal itself quicker and quicker as time goes by. Nicolò must lose his senses at this because he finds that his bites have turned into sucking kisses to Yusuf's neck and shoulders, minutes upon minutes of worrying at the skin and muscle there even as his cock pushes into the groove of Yusuf's groin, sometimes slipping downwards to bump against his balls, which are big and full and hairless as per his customs, the skin there seemingly just as delicate as Nicolò's cockhead. He drools pathetically, mouth filling with saliva he has to swallow jerkily so as not to salivate all over Yusuf, just from thinking about getting his mouth on them, surely a spurious thought made real by their ceaseless proximity, impure desires rising to the surface now that he has him beneath him, willing to allow _so much_.

Nails start digging into his back spurring him on, fingers gaining in confidence. They don't feel like much, but next time he makes sure his tunic joins his trousers and smallclothes so Yusuf can scratch at him to his heart's content.

Their days in Malta turn to weeks. They find a burned-out structure they take to rebuilding. There's more of Yusuf's countrymen on the island than Nicolò would have expected, but no one settles near them for kilometres. No one cares they are holed up together, aimlessly wandering the world while bloodshed rains down on their brothers in other lands.

They mind their own company. Clever workmanship from Yusuf and seemingly ceaseless carrying of supplies by Nicolò means they have a room with a hearth and a roof soon enough. They both find work in nearby villages. It's good work. But they spend every waking hour, dawn to dusk, away. Nicolò can't stop thinking about it, all the hours spent not at the house, and not even two weeks in he stays put and plans to tend to their meagre garden instead. Yusuf drops his shoes by the door and spends the day digging trenches and wheeling fertiliser and compost around and setting up irrigation, down to his smallclothes and still drenched under the summer sun. Nicolò peeks at him from under the sweat dripping down his forehead into his eyes, but rights himself before Yusuf can spot him.

Their garden grows. They trade in the villages for an Anatolian goat Yusuf takes a liking to and whom Nicolò instantly abhors. The goat seems to feel similarly, but she's theirs now. Oddly enough, it's par for the course. That evening, Yusuf smiles all through supper, and something swells inside Nicolò's chest.

Some days, he wants to throw Yusuf to the ground and push inside him over and over again until neither can walk. Do it again later. Never stop, not for anything but food and water and maybe brief sleep before clashing together for hours and days. He feels like that now watching the lines at the corners of Yusuf's eyes and the edges of his teeth showing through his grin.

Once their supper is consumed and they've taken turns to make water, they move together to the thin pellet on the floor. Nicolò feels parched, though he drank his fill throughout their meal. They make haste with their clothes, Nicolò annoyed beyond himself at Yusuf's good mood, the gentle touches and freely-given smiles when their eyes lock. He straddles him, already hard, Yusuf not far behind, and he drags himself along his front like a cat in heat. He feels very much like he's burning up.

Their hands go to each other for leverage. Nicolò finds his in Yusuf's hair, those curls he can't stop touching once it was first allowed. Their hips work in tandem, slick pre-come driving the way. It's not smooth enough for his liking, his cockhead sensitive in a way Yusuf's isn't, the slick and sweat between them not quite wet enough, but the harshness of it all drives him on even more, as does Yusuf's hard grip at his hips pushing him forward until their skin slaps together.

Tugging at the roots harshly, he listens for Yusuf's moan. Their heads tilt together on their own, foreheads ending up resting against each other. Their breaths mingle, gazes averted, Nicolò's lips tingling for a kiss he can't ask for. Instead, he widens his legs around Yusuf's hips and grinds down over and over again, a little desperately, until his balls ache and he spills between them.

Leaving him with a sweet, satisfied hurt, he wants nothing more than to collapse into sleep. He has the presence of mind to rock on top of Yusuf until he feels him take his pleasure against the thin skin of his hip bone. His last thought before succumbing to sleep is that he'd love nothing more than to reach down and bring it to his lips to taste him, finally.

He expects to wake on the floor alone and shivering, but Yusuf's arms are around him, his left under Nicolò's torso and the other encircling him, meeting just off-centre of his chest. Even the early morning drowsiness can't prevent shivers running down his spine, never mind their two thin blankets thrown over top of them.

Lying side by side, chest to back, their legs brush each other at the knees and the backs of Nicolò's thighs, barely a touch at all. He finds he's neither cold nor entirely warm, not all over, their house drawing draughts from every corner, but tipping back into Yusuf's chest would be unacceptable. His now too-long hair is falling into his eyes, but he has no thought to brush it away. No thought to move in the slightest. He waits out Yusuf, then pretends to wake after him.

But after the milking's done and their prayers completed and they finally break their fast together, Yusuf catches his eye across the table, something sly playing at his lips, and Nicolò's breath catches in his throat before what is a faint yet recognisable excitement crackles in his stomach and bubbles in his throat.

This game they're playing, they can play it some more.

**Author's Note:**

> I love me some kudos and comments. They keep me going, for I am weak. :D
> 
> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


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